


Do not read this

by Serrenedy



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:47:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serrenedy/pseuds/Serrenedy
Summary: This contains spoilers for the Evilly Good universe and is not to be read stand alone. There will be chapters that link to whatever chapter is relevant here. You will be spoiled if you try to read this and none of it will make sense.  Do not read this.





	Do not read this

        “What the _fuck_ are you doing?” He flinched. He didn’t need to look up to see the flashing of the ice in eyes identical to his own. Twenty minutes ago, give or take a few, his mother, dripping wet from gathering the last few in the storm, had placed a truly staggering amount of eggs in front of him. It wasn’t even the disappointment. Though he did feel awful about that, about his mother and sister working so hard to get him so many eggs, about being born so…wrong; so blonde, so weak, so…. _tiny_.

        “I…I can’ eat ‘em” The table shook from the force of Babette’s hands slamming down on it. He flinched again and tried to scramble away. It didn’t work, it never did. He was too small. On the off chance he was even able to make it off the chair and onto the ground, he would never be able to outrun her. So he just flinched in preparation of the pain. Sure enough, there was the tremendous yet familiar agony of his hair being ripped from his skull as his mother lifted him out of the chair angrily to shake him vigorously. She’d have to buzz it off again to keep people from noticing the patches.

        “That had BETTER have been ‘I _will_ eat them.” Do you know, do you have any _idea_ how hard it was to gather these eggs!?” The boy curled on himself as much as he could. “You will _eat_ every last one of them” She snarled. “You _will_ get as big and strong as Gaston.” With that she threw the six year old into the opposite wall. Her son crumpled in a heap. Luckily, he wasn’t bleeding this time, though his ears were ringing real bad. His head pounded and there was something black creeping against the edges of his vision. Babette had no sympathy for him as she looked over him from where she’d stood as she’d thrown him. He wasn’t bleeding or anything so obviously he was fine.

        “Mother” Babette’s gaze snapped to her daughter.

        “What?” She demanded. She was pissed off. It had been hours before sunrise for three days to scavenge four dozen eggs for that brat!

        “Mother he isn’t moving” Though Babette didn’t care for her son, his ten year old sister was looking him over carefully. The boy was breathing hard and his eyes kept slipping in and out of focus. “I think he needs Gwen.”

        “Did I tell you to _think_?” Babette asked dangerously. Immediately the young girl’s muscles lock up. Her eyes stray from her brother to the ground itself.

        “Of course not” She whispered. She wasn’t stupid enough to fight about this. She wasn’t as stupid as she was supposed to be. “Women never think. Why would Gaston want a woman that wastes her time on such frivolous things?” Babette nodded firmly. She stalked over to her son and dragged him back in his seat.

        “You will get up from here when, and only when you have consumed every last egg in that bowl.” She hissed. He was swaying in his seat. The eldest child bit her lip looking at her brother who looked more than a little out of it. He didn’t even seem to notice the slight green sheen to the outside of the egg. He just shoved it in his mouth, along with the next three after. His mother seemed almost viciously happy as he mechanically shoved eggs in his mouth, chewing as much as he could but swallowing most whole. As he ate more eggs his mother changed somehow. She cooed at him and pet at his hair, as if she hadn’t just thrown him by it, stroked his cheek and ignored the way his eyes wouldn’t stay focused as she told him how strong he’d soon be.

        “Mother?” Babette tightened her grip on her youngest in anger at the distraction, her false kindness stopping to deal with her eldest.

        “ _What_?” She demanded in a dangerous hiss. She was so angry with her daughter, she stopped paying attention to her son. Not that she was paying real attention in the first place. If she was, she may have noticed the green tint to his face, the tint her daughter was calling to warn her about. But she didn’t…and so she had no time to prepare for her son turning and suddenly vomiting all of the eggs he’d eaten onto her dress.

 

* * *

 

He was a lucky one. Jacques LeFou had a bit of luck on the Isle of the Lost…just a bit. He was a lucky one, because he had Gaston. On the isle of the lost, he would have been eaten alive…he _should_ have been eaten alive. He was short, weak, not all that evil, a lackey…more like a thrall.  Somehow even worse than all of that…he couldn’t speak a word of English. Well…he could speak a few words, but not enough for a conversation. He spoke French…the language Gaston had banned. Apparently, even hearing it reminded him of all he’d lost. It was…annoying to say the least. But the fact remained that while he was with Gaston he got a few _perks_. Perks such as, protection-even when he wasn’t physically _with_ Gaston. King Asshole had sent their whole village to the Isle of the Lost. It was a good thing…for him at least. Everyone from the village knew him. Most of them only spoke to him for stories of Gaston…even then, he had to speak to them in private so that they could tell their children the same stories but in English. But poor Jacques, he just wasn’t able to speak the language. His tongue didn’t like producing the odd vowel sounds. He couldn’t wrap his mouth around those horrible consonant sounds and the tense and placement issues. He was _old_ he couldn’t be expected to remember subject-predicate rules for two different languages. Not to mention adverbs! So while it wasn’t the best, his lot could have been a lot worse. Another perk was food. Gaston had a fan club and when they saw him they tried to make sure their ‘savior’ wouldn’t starve.

On a day like this, he would normally never be out. The storm outside was raging. The wind lashed, the thunder crashed, the cabin shook terribly. It was a miserable day to be out. Nothing could get him out of this, hell, there was probably _nobody_ out during this mess. He usually spent as much time as he could out of the house when Gaston was in a mood, but the weather kept him inside. So he was inside while Gaston raged and screamed and shot at the walls. For once, Gaston wasn’t angry, rather worried. Jacques still didn’t want to be there. He would usually take the four year old child with him. She didn’t want to leave anymore due to…well, turning five ‘soon’. She thought she was finally going to be old enough for him…LeFou didn’t have the heart to tell her.  

However disgusting it was out, he didn’t have a choice today. He wouldn’t… _couldn’t_ disobey a direct order. He had another reason for not wanting to leave…it was the same reason he had to. Josephine was giving birth…she had been since yesterday afternoon. He didn’t want to leave her. He didn’t want to go out in the storm, he didn’t want to leave Geneviève to deal with her father alone, he didn’t want to…he just _didn’t_ want to. He half didn’t even want another child. Not that he wouldn’t adore the baby when it came but he was at the end of his rope keeping one child alive let alone two. Josephine, bless her soul was a terrible wife. It wasn’t her fault. She probably could have cooked better if her arms weren’t always busted or in slings. She might have cleaned better if she could see the dirt through her black eyes. She may have been a better mother if she weren’t always asleep. Sickly didn’t do well on the isle…neither did injured…still, she lasted eight years and a daughter. That’s longer than anyone thought she would. No one keeps their wife alive like Gaston, he supposed.

As he stepped out of the cabin he’s instantly soaked to the bone and hurrying. There wasn’t much food left and he needed to feed Geneviève and Josephine. That was important because while Gaston was a big meat eater, he was more the full leg of boar type of guy which a four year old and a woman in labor couldn’t eat. He’d given Pierrette a few extra ingredients last time they’d spoken so that she could teach her fool daughter about how to make them stretch. It always made her happy enough to grant him a few extra tidbits. Hopefully she had soup. Soup was good for a sickly pregnant woman and a growing girl. Gaston himself had roast pork still but had remembered about the fact that his wife had nothing to eat. She needed to live through this labor and grant him the son she’d promised.

He was short and his legs were short and he wasn’t quite as round as he used to be so he waddled as he ran through the mess. First stop, Lunette. She was a bitch at times but she and Stanley adored him and always stole good things for their twins. He banged on the door and fought against the horrid wind and freezing rain to stay still long enough for someone to open the door. Before he could really process it, he was in an armchair with a pint in his hand.

        “LeFou what are you doing out on a day like this?” Stanley tended to bellow. It wasn’t his fault. The redhead was a big lumberjack of a man and his voice tended to carry.

        "Je me demandais si vous aviez de la nourriture en réserve"; He admitted. Stanley’s eyebrow raised.

        “Ah, It’s nice you’re keeping Gaston strong but goodness. He’s gone through an entire pig!” LeFou turned in his seat as Lunette waltzed into the room. LeFou forced a smile. Here was the hard part.

        "Ah, il va bien juste ... quelque chose de plus léger pour Joséphine et Geneviève" Lunette’s kind smile vanished.

        “Oh....” She sniffed. “Well why can’t Josephine make something for her own spawn?”

        "Elle a été malade récemment ... et en travail" Lunette’s mood didn’t improve hearing that.

        “She’s been pushing for a while. I practically _popped_ out not one, but two healthy strong boys.” The woman tsked as she shook her head. “But I suppose that I can’t let that stupid girl starve Gaston’s daughter. I’d give you egg drop soup but my sister’s caused a shortage trying to make her pathetic whelp worth anything” LeFou sat there awkwardly as the woman turned to march into the kitchen.

        “Say Jacques?” Stanley leaned over, looming. If the man weren’t so friendly he might even seem intimidating. LeFou just nodded slightly. “Mind helping me out with the details of the bear fight again? The boys love that one.” With a smile, LeFou launched into the story. It was one of his favorites; Gaston brave and daring had stopped a bear from getting to the village where it would have killed a few people. And without bullets, he’d had to use LeFou as a distraction to get the beast in a good position to wrestle with it. By the time he was done, Lunette had returned bearing egg drop soup sans eggs. He thanked them and headed one house down to Pierrette.

        “Coming” The small woman opened the door, bags under her eyes and her hair pulled back as it could be, though her soft bangs still fell out of their holdings.

        "Bonjour Pierrette" LeFou smiled at her. She smiled back, though it still didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Comment tenez-vous?"He asked gently.

        “Oh…I…I’m alright Jacques.” She was a terrible liar. She hadn’t been ‘alright’ since her husband died. “Trying to teach my daughter how to cook but…” She shook her head. “It baffles me how you can burn something to a crisp and still have it be raw. I swear that child just covers it in soot so I think she tried.” The two old friends shared a laugh at that. “Come inside, get warm. I meant to bring this batch of Brioche over but I was so confused when Babette tried to steal my eggs a few days ago.

        "En fait je dois courir. Joséphine donne naissance et il n'y a rien à manger pour elle."

        “Ah! Well take the bread. I know _you_ can turn it into a full meal.” She left and returned in short order. LeFou started waddling home as quickly as he could, a pot of soup under one arm and a batch of bread wrapped in napkins in a small basket. Stopping at Babette’s was useless. She was in the habit of giving him only things Gaston could eat, as if she wanted his wife and daughter to starve.

          He’d barley taken ten steps before he had to stop the first time. Lunette always used cast iron pots. Better taste or no, they were heavy and he couldn’t carry them for long. We hefted it up and began to waddle again, half wishing that Gaston were here to help. Then again, he’d just as much help as he may laugh so…no. He only managed a few more steps before he say the red.

          LeFou stopped, looking down at the red on the street, the red that was being washed by the rain and pounded against the pot as the street flooded slightly. He had places to go…why was there so much red on the street? He looked around until he saw the cause and his heart stopped. There was a mostly red buddle of fabric…small. It was shivering and, as he got closer he realized…crying. People…people cried all the time…he shouldn’t…he should go lift that soup and take it home. He should stop walking towards the sobbing bundle that he didn’t remember starting to walk towards in the first place. This close, he could see that the little boy, for it was just a little boy, was covered in open wounds. His arms were ripped open in, what he could tell from multiple patch jobs to Gaston, superficial wounds that had missed anything important but no doubt still hurt. His head was bleeding lightly as well, blood getting washed down by the rain and matting into his blonde sideburns. It was none of his business…He had other things to do…the kid was covered in vomit and this was a punishment…LeFou cursed his own to big heart.

         "Est-ce que tu vas bien?" He asked gently. The boy, who had never heard French in his life just blinked up at him and cowered slightly. LeFou felt a pain in his soul itself. No one…no _child_ should ever have that much fear in their eyes. Especially dealing with him. He wasn’t that much bigger than a child anyway.  "Qui vous a blessé?" he asked. The boy shuffled closer to himself, cowering in the storm. LeFou hesitantly pulled off a piece of the brioche and held it out to the child. The boy’s eyes shined bright and he inched closer, then reeled back to the wall. LeFou frowned. That was the sign of someone used to having food taken away. He nearly _shook_ the food in front of the child. With the storm raging the bread was already soaked and looked a lot less appetizing. The boy’s hand was shaking horribly as he reached out and took the bread. LeFou smiled brightly and backed away slowly. The boy ate the scrap of bread…the way he ate, he hadn’t eaten in a while…not that it was a strange occurrence on the isle of the lost. LeFou pulled off another piece of bread, holding it out as he backed up. The boy seemed to understand, scrambling forward to get the next piece of bread. By the third piece, they were both by the pot again. LeFou took a moment to worry. After all, he was already having trouble carrying both items. Now he had to carry both while coaxing a child of all things. This was, without a doubt, the _worst_ idea he’d ever had.

          The child surprised him. Soaking wet and covered in blood and puke, he managed to struggle with the pot. He couldn’t steal it away, not with big it was and how small they both were. Instead the child hobbled along beside him, helping him. If it was in exchange for the bread LeFou had no clue how to ask. The two went to the home of one Gaston Bientôt. The child helped LeFou put the soup on the counter…then LeFou served out four small bowls each with a small quarter of a single brioche. The boy, still bleeding slightly, was sat down in front of a bowl. He was confused, staring at it until a…he knew it was a girl…only because everyone knew Gaston had a girl. She wore Gaston’s clothing, though it was tailored only slightly. It was still baggy enough to be a dress on her, and leather leggings. Her hair was buzzed on the sides and in a small pompadour in the middle. She was without a doubt the least girl like girl he’d ever seen. She tilted her head at him, mismatched eyes wide in confusion.

         "Je vais aider ici jusqu'à ce qu'il soit récupéré. Il ne parle pas français" The girl nodded brightly.

          "Ravi de vous rencontrer" The boy blinked at the girl. She pulled the bread into smaller pieces and started dipping it in her meager ration of food. The boy stared at her doing so. " Vous ne savez pas pourquoi vous êtes ici, n'est-ce pas?" Again, he blinked. She reached over and tore up his bread as well, dunking it and holding it to his lips. The boy, a bit stupid, took a long while before he hesitantly ate the morsel out of the smaller girl’s hand.  "C'est comme ça que tu manges ça. Nous mangeons de la soupe et du pain la plupart du temps, mais parfois papa partage sa viande. Ce sont ses bons jours."; He still looked confused, so she gave him a bright smile. His eyes lidded slightly and he slumped slightly. The girl blinked and ran off. " Monsieur LeFou, je reviens tout de suite. Votre aide est plus blessée que vous l'avez réalisé. Cinq minutes. Dites à mon nouveau frère de tenir jusque-là." The boy blinked at the spot the girl just was before slowly continuing to eat.

 

 

          “You fucking idiot you weren’t supposed to sleep!” The boy blearily blinked himself awake. He knew that voice…everyone knew Gwen’s voice. He tensed slightly. If you heard Gwen’s voice you were usually dying. And he figured this might be what dying felt like, everything hurt-and not the normal pain…it was a dull throbbing accompanied by an uncomfortable tightness. He tried to roll the tightness out of his shoulder, which was how he realized that the tightness was caused by bandages.

          “Um…Thanks” His voice was a bit scratchy and it was only then that he realized that he had no idea where he was. He was on a bed in a room with another bed on the opposite side. The girl in front of him looked as irritated as her voice. He guessed that this must be Gwen. She looked different out of her smoke cloud, skin darker than he would have thought, though the discoloration suggested dirt rather than skin. Her eyes were green rather than the brown everyone thought, and her hair was _huge_ , even matted down with…dirt or blood? He couldn’t tell. It was hard to think she was only one year older.

          “Don’t pick at anything. Brainless knows how to dress your bandages. Try not to knock your head around anymore Bricks for Brains” Her default mode seemed to be snarling at him. He reached his hand up to the worst of the tightness to find bandages wrapped around his head. “Protect this idiot Geneviève” The snarl wasn’t said to him, rather the girl from before.

         "Merci beaucoup!" She squealed before jumping on Gwen to hug her. Gwen shook her head and left as the other girl, Geneviève apparently hugged him tight.  "LeFou est venu te chercher et il t'aime bien alors je suis vraiment content que tu ne sois pas mort. S'il vous plait, n'obtenez plus de commotions cérébrales, d'accord?" She looked so bright and happy.

          “I…um…I don’t understand what you’re saying.” He finally admitted. She tilted her head at him.

           "Je ne comprends pas ce que vous dites." She smiled. The boy blinked.

          “Miss?”

          " Non, _Mademoiselle_ est Mademoiselle" He blinked again.

          “Miss?”

          “Mademoiselle” He blinked. Why was she…repeating…

          “Mad…um” She smiled again and said it slower. “Mad-oh-miss-elle” She giggled then, a bright sound and clapped a few times. “Miss is…” She frowned. Umm… “Mademoiselle?” She smiled again. Alright that was a weird way to learn something.

          "Ne t'inquiète pas. Vous avez un copain d'étude." He blinked.

          “I don’t” She grabbed his hand and slapped his wrist.

          "Non, en français. Enseignez à Giselle" He blinked as she went over to a bassinette he hadn’t noticed before, taking out the tiny bundle and placing it in his arms. "C'est votre travail maintenant, d'accord?" He blinked…he didn’t know what she just said but…right now, with this tiny thing in his arms…he’d risk his life to protect it.

          “Giselle?” He asked. Geneviève smiled brightly and gave him a hug.

 

* * *

 

There was shouting. He cowered under his bed as the screaming continued. He still didn’t know…he _still_ didn’t know what they were saying sometimes. Almost a year and he…didn’t know most of what Gaston was saying when he was angry. He couldn’t see past the tears in his eye. He couldn’t _breathe_. He was only distantly aware of his heart pounding in his chest, of the blackness creeping in along the edges of his vision, the dull ache in his knees as he hit the ground. He was in so much pain he couldn’t process it…and it kept getting _worse_. He was only vaguely aware of a crushing pressure around his chest, of something far too small and a bit warm on his face. There were whimpers…whispers of odd half things of gibberish that he had no hope of trying to understand right now. He had to blink a bit, clear the tears. Whimpers were a universal language. He forced himself to stop crying…though, he must have been trying for a while. Giselle whimpered again, patting at his face with a small frown. Geneviève hugged him even tighter, rocking the both of them back in forth.

          "Est-ce que tu vas bien?" He blinked. Geneviève blinked at him again, then repeated…slower. " Bien" He grit his jaw. "Meilleur?" He blinked, understanding that one.

          "Meilleur." He confirmed. "Je..." He sighed. He didn’t know the words "Je me sens tellement ...''everything. He shook slightly and Geneviève leaned up slightly, running her hand through his hair. It was getting longer. It was so confusing. He used to have a haircut every time his mother yelled at him. Now…Now it was getting long. It was long enough to curl at the base of his skull.  "Je me promène" He said roughly. He placed the ten month old down and Giselle started trying to crawl up his pant leg. "Je ... euh"“I…um…” He looked at Geneviève “Down?” He asked. She rolled her eyes

           Nous avons été au dessus de ça. He knew that phrase by heart. There was a crash, something big, most likely thrown at LeFou. There was his higher voice babbling, begging Gaston to calm down, and begging for mercy. Geneviève bit her lip. "Je vais couvrir pour vous." She said gently. With that, he was out through the window, scrambling away, though never far enough, never fast enough…never good enough. The tears crept back up on him, this time without either girl to help. Why would they want to? In fact…why did they have to? They were the Bientôt girls. They were the best things on the isle and he was…nothing. He did nothing. He was supposed to watch Giselle but he could hardly talk to her. When Geneviève spoke he had to make sure he was translating correctly and the argument going on was because of him. Because he couldn’t follow a simple order in English. He was forgetting English. He couldn’t figure out French, he was losing English, he did everything wrong. The isle was already an awful place, a disgusting cesspool of everything bad in the world. Surely he could make it at least a bit better.

He walked over to the docks. They tended to make him feel better. Not great…just better. It was where Morgana’s Fish and Chips was…and the really pretty waitress; Shrimpy. That might not have been her name, but it was what everybody called her. She was cool…she also had a ship he visited from time to time, though…he wasn’t sure she knew that he was visiting. He found himself on her dock again, looking out over the water. He wasn’t going to mess with her stuff, he never did and she’d seen him often enough though they never spoke. She never even kept stuff on deck. It was clear for him to walk around. He could see the gleam of the barrier from here. In the dark it almost seemed like they were connected…like the barrier was just a nightlight and not a cage. But he knew the truth. It was a prison and they were stuck there, forever. Giselle didn’t deserve to be stuck here. Geneviève didn’t deserve to be stuck here. His sister, even if she hated him. His mother…even if after all this time she’d never come looking for him. They…they still didn’t deserve this. Even he didn’t deserve this, stupid and pathetic as he was. It was a life sentence they didn’t do the crime for. And it was awful. Maybe…maybe as awful as it was he could make it…just a bit better. Just a…bit. Just…

         “What the fuck are you doing?!” His eyes snapped open at the harsh voice. He’d closed them when he took a breath, when he’d stood on top of the railing…when he’d let himself fall. He didn’t…didn’t quite understand why or how there was a tentacle wrapped around his waist. He looked up from the tentacle to who it was attached to. Shrimpy hung off the side of the ship, attached by aqua blue tentacles that started from her lower body to grab onto the railing. She was also angrier than he could ever recall _anyone_ being. She reared herself up, reeling him up as well. Her tentacle deposited him on the ship before her lower body turned back into legs. She glared down at him, arms crossed. She was probably the scariest ten year old he’d ever seen. “Answer me Jackass” She ordered and he flinched again.

        “I…uhhh…I” He bit his lip.  "Pourquoi est-ce que tu t'en préoccupes?" She blinked at him, raising an eyebrow. He waited for her to say something…anything…at all. She just stared. He got uncomfortable, started twitching slightly. She crouched down, as close to him as she could and stared into his soul it felt like.

        “You understand English.” It was a statement, not a question, and said far kinder than he deserved. He nodded anyway. “I need you to try and speak to me in English” His eyes widened.

        “Sorry Shrimpy” She scowled.

        “That’s _not_ my name.” The confusion in his face must have been obvious because her face went from ‘ready to kill’ to ‘tired and pissed’ almost instantly. “I’m Uma. Call me what I am” He nodded. Uma…a bit different than ‘Shrimpy’ but he could probably figure it out…not that he’d need to. He looked back over at the railing he’d just jumped. “Who or what are you?” She asked. Her voice was sharp enough to make his wince.

        “Worthless” He answered easily. She scowled. Even at ten she had enough of a brain to know that if he was trying to jump off the side of her ship he must not have had the best self-esteem. Calling himself what he felt probably wasn’t good for that.

        “Not what you feel. What you are.” Her voice came out still as a snarl, but more matter of fact than anything.

        “Worthless?” He tried again. That ended up with a sword wedged into the deck by his ear.

        “I’m going to try one more time.” She was annoyed. It bled through in her voice. Her foot gently found its way to his throat. “What’s your name?” He gulped audibly.

        “Worthless little runt that doesn’t deserve to be named after Gaston” He said, trembling slightly. It wasn’t everyday…every _night_ you were pinned by a pretty octopus girl that had a sword inching steadily closer to you. He was starting to rethink this whole jumping off the ship thing. Not because he didn’t want to stop being a bother, but because her shoe was _pressing_ on his throat now, and this was a bit more painful then he thought drowning might be. “Is…is long… so…Worthless”

        “That’s not your name.” Uma said softly. He tried to nod that, it _was_ in fact his name but she twisted her heel a bit. It was hard to breathe, plus, he couldn’t really nod without moving his neck which was a bit occupied at the moment. “Come to the Chip Shoppe tomorrow. I know you know where it is, I’ve seen you there before.” He has been there before, to look at the pretty waitress…the same pretty waitress with her foot on his throat. He makes a sound, as much of one as he can right now while desperately hoping she didn’t notice how red his face was getting. “I’m gonna assume that was you agreeing. In which case” She shifted a bit, taking weight off of his throat. “Congrats, you’re smarter than you look...” She observes him as he chokes for air. “Not that that’s hard.” She adds. “You look really stupid.” With that the foot lifts up completely and Worthless scrambles up to sitting, staring at Uma. Somewhere a child has started to cry, not that it isn’t a normal occurrence on the Isle of the Lost, but Uma looks really upset all of a sudden.

        “I’ll see you soon” Worthless shouts as he turns to leave. He’s left Geneviève and Giselle alone for too long and the chances are high that LeFou has calmed down Gaston. He runs the whole way home, away from the docks and the ship and the sword swinging Shrimpy…wait…was it…he’d figure out her name next time.

 

* * *

 

 

Next time didn’t end up being the next day. The next day he was forced to pick up the…living room. Yeah…in his temper tantrum the previous night, Gaston had thrown his favorite chair and broken one of the arms. In anger at that he destroyed…pretty much everything. The day…hell, the week was spent picking up broken glass, painstakingly gluing the floor back down, figuring out how to remake the fireplace, and altogether fixing what was broken. Due to Gaston’s mood it also meant doing it on an empty stomach and with no sleep. By the time they were finished neither Worthless nor Geneviève could stand on their own. What made it worse was Giselle. Somehow the baby knew everything and when she wasn’t held by Worthless she screamed bloody murder. She couldn’t be in the house while they fixed it. LeFou walked her all over the isle, but Gaston would have snapped her throat if he got too annoyed by the wailing.   

        “Wow” Worthless forced his eyes open to take stock of the scowling girl in front of him. “It’s almost like you’re being _paid_ to bother me.” She scoffed. Geneviève giggled from across the room in her own bed. Gwen tended to be by every few weeks if they were unlucky…which was most of the time. Otherwise they could hobble over to her to get fixed up. Sometimes…they couldn’t. Gwen was smart, she knew that if they hadn’t been by to see her in a few days she needed to check up. “What’d he do this time?”

        "C'était de notre faute." Geneviève piped up.  "Si nous avions nettoyé un peu plus vite, nous aurions pu manger et dormir. Ne blâme pas papa." Gwen stared at the other girl for a long moment, then turned to Worthless.

        “Do you know what she said?” He paused. He got a few words and could piece together the rest based on Geneviève’s personality so he nodded. “Do I _want_ to know?” At that he shook his head. He knew Gwen’s feelings on Gaston. “Fair enough.” Stained hands went to the ever present poison belt and produced two grey oblong pills and a vial of something green. “Water” She barked out. LeFou got her the requested item, two cracked cups of water as Giselle fussed in her crib, sleepy but fighting it as long as she could. Whatever was in the vial, when it was uncorked, started to smoke. The vapors smelled foul, like rotting meat. She put half of the vial into each cup. “Take it” She ordered. It was a bitter pill to swallow and washed down with the liquid that seared the esophagus, but when all was said and done, the two felt good enough to get out of bed. “Eat sometime in the next two days, or else” It was a snarl, like everything that came out of her mouth, but her eyes were actually worried.

        "Si nous allons à tante Gothel nous pourrions obtenir une carotte ou deux." Geneviève pointed out. Worthless nodded.

        "Avons-nous encore plus de chou? Nous pourrions être en mesure d'avoir de la soupe avec plus d'une chose dedans!" Gwen scoffed.

        “Well since you two dunderheads are feeling good enough to talk to each other in crazy made up exclude Gwen speak I’m going to leave this cesspool of ugh” Geneviève and Worthless looked at each other before bursting into laughter at the swiftly retreating girl. They knew she meant nothing by it she just…hated being in that house.

        "En fait les gars" They looked at an excited LeFou, it was such a rare occurrence at times. "Vous avez tous les deux tellement bien fait en bas que Gaston vous laisse faire sortir une côte entière du rôti de Babbete" Geneviève cheered as the boy’s face fell. "Allons!" LeFou carefully picked up the sleeping infant and went downstairs. The two older kids followed on shaky feet. Gwen’s stuff couldn’t cure what technically wasn’t a problem, but they’d probably be able to keep the food down at this rate. And hey, they could breathe without the effort making their head dizzy so…that was good.

It was a good night. They had some unidentified meat, and Gwen had dropped by a few carrots and tomatoes. The tomatoes didn’t join the carrots in the cabbage soup, but each person had a fourth of one with some salt. And they were lucky enough to get _eggs_ to, one each! Gaston had drunk himself into a stupor and so he slept while they feasted downstairs. They went right back to sleep after dinner, Gwen medicine fixing them up while they slept.

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning Worthless and Geneviève did their normal workout routine. The isle was starting to get dark when the two went to see if they could scavenge anything for next week’s dinner. Gwen had just given them food so she was out…there was always Silver’s shop, but the waitress there actually kinda scared Worthless. Which was ironic being that she was nonviolent and also a ‘lady’. Though, she hadn’t been much of a lady lately. She’d changed. What if she’d changed into someone violent? What if she wanted to prove how violent she now was with his head? When he voiced his concerns to Geneviève the younger girl laughed so hard she ended up doubled over.  

        "Vraiment Qui Ne Vaux Rien? Tu penses qu'elle va devenir aussi folle?"

        "Elle est plus âgée que nous."/span> He pointed out.

        "Ouais et tu es plus grand qu'elle. Si quelque chose vous devriez avoir plus peur de ses frères" It seemed like fate. After all, a really good night as the prelude to a horrible night. One moment she was laughing at him for being silly. The next, an older kid had her by her newly grown out hair. Worthless went into action, grabbing a pipe while the boy placed the sword beneath Geneviève’s throat.

        “Ah don mean any harm” He spoke slowly and over enunciated, like he was talking to a toddler. “Ah jus wan to send a message.” He looked over and blue eyes caught one another, one pair terrified, the other crazed. “Tell the G.F.C. that she’s waitin at Morgana’s there’s one o em that’s needed.” With that the older boy turned and stalked away, Geneviève in his grip.

 

It was only twenty minutes later that Worthless came to the shop. He had to stop for LeFou and LeFou needed to find a sitter for Giselle. Luckily they ran into Maleficent. Worthless rubbed at raw eyes, he’d been crying-a death sentence on the isle. “I can’t go to the G.F.C. but they love LeFou” He gestured over to the small man, whom was searching frantically for Geneviève now.

        “LeFou! Qui Ne Vaux Rien!” Both heads swiveled to an all too happy call. Geneviève was sitting above them, almost literally. The Shoppe had balconies and she was leaning out of one waving to the two of them. "J'ai eu la nourriture pour la semaine prochaine."

        "Est-ce que tu vas bien" LeFou asked at once.

        "Oh! Oui en fait!" Geneviève was smiling as she started down.  "Harry était apparemment censé attirer votre attention. Ne vous effrayez pas vraiment mal. Vous n'aviez pas à aller au G.F.C. as tu?"

        "Non, j'avais trop peur qu'ils te tuent au moment où j'arrive et reviens." Worthless admitted. She nodded, that was a valid fear. Once she was at the bottom of the stairs she ran over to them with a bucket. The bucket had a bit of rotting fish in it, as well as some vegetables and even spices. "Comment avez-vous volé tout cela et rester en vie?" Worthless asked in wonder.

         "Foutriquet ne me l'a pas donné." She revealed.

        "Elle ... pourquoi?" Neither LeFou nor Worthless understood why someone would give up valuable food and as far as either of them knew, Geneviève didn’t even speak to the pirate that much.

        “I _know_ you speak English.” The snarl came before any of them saw the girl and her fierce glare was centered on Worthless. “I shouldn’t give you anything.” She gestured to the bucket in Geneviève’s hands. “After all, you’re late. Let it be the last time.”

        “Yes” He responded automatically. It was a lie, he already knew that much. He couldn’t control when Gaston’s temper flared, when he was needed elsewhere. He didn’t know what she wanted with him or what he was early or late _too_ just that she was upset and that was probably bad for him. Bad for all of them if she took away the food. Someone called out an order of some sort.

        “I’m coming!” she barked, before giving the trio her attention once more. “You two can go.” She waved away LeFou and Geneviève. “You” She pointed at Worthless. “We have a chat…an overdue one. Wait until the end of my shift. It’s like an hour. Sit” She jabbed her finger up to where Geneviève had been.

        "Quand pensez-vous que vous en aurez fini avec lui?" Shrimpy…Uma looked at the girl she couldn’t understand. Then her eyes trailed over to Gil.

        “OH! Oh uh…she wants to know…when I am done.” Geneviève nodded harshly. If need be, she’d stay here too.

        “Not longer than four hours…at most. Or I’ll send someone to tell you otherwise. I wanna make a deal is all.” Worthless and Geneviève both frowned. Considering who her mother was, a deal from that particular waitress was a really bad idea. She must have noticed the hesitation on their faces. “Harry!” She snapped. He materialized, the boy from earlier, mania in his eyes, a mouth full of too sharp teeth and a silver hook still dripping blood. “Harry take our… _guest_ upstairs until I’m ready for him.”

        "Je ne te laisserai pas le blesser!" Uma obviously didn’t understand a word that was said, but could probably get it when Geneviève jumped in front of the boy and LeFou’s face morphed into one of horror.

        “Harry” Uma barked again. “Hook, down” All at once the other ten year old looked so depressed it was unnatural. The mania was still in his eyes but the set of his mouth was akin to a kicked puppy.

        “But Uma I” Her glare shut down whatever response he was going to say. He pouted instead, slamming the hook _into_ a table. Her gaze fixed itself on Geneviève.   

        “He’ll be back in four hours at the most, assuming you don’t live on the other side of the isle.” Geneviève handed the bucket to LeFou.

        "Je vais attendre avec lui " LeFou scrambled away as quickly as he could. Uma raised an eyebrow."Allons Qui Ne Vaux Rien" Geneviève smiled. Uma watched as the two ascended the stairs, a soft smile gracing her features. The smile vanished when the same asshole from before bellowed another order at her. She grabbed a plate of something random and threw it on the table.

        “I didn’t order th-”

        “Yes you did. NEXT!” The dissatisfied patron ate what Uma had given them, as she knew they would. After all, when food was scarce you were just happy when you got it…. _if_ you got it.

 

* * *

  

        “Alright. So, I’ve been thinking about you a lot” Worthless blinked. Shrimpy came out and said what was on her mind a lot. She really didn’t have much of a filter and she had a really commanding presence and he hadn’t realized until she apologized for it that her shift had been extended by two hours. He’d been so entranced watching her work the room that the time had flown by. He shifted slightly, mostly because Geneviève shifted in her sleep. They were on Uma’s ship now after her shift. She, Worthless, a sleeping Geneviève, and ‘Harry’, who was twirling his hook between his fingers and looking at them like he wanted to dismember him.

         “I’m sorry I was on your boat. It won’t happen again” The words escaped him as he looked fearfully at Harry. Harry for his part laughed, a mad sounding bark. Uma rolled her eyes.

        “Harry.” Unhinged blue eyes swiveled to the waitress. “Put her with Ezra.” She ordered. Worthless tightened his hold for a moment, upon seeing Harry’s face fall he realized that whoever ‘Ezra’ was must be somewhat safe for Geneviève. Harry was surprisingly gentle as he lifted the sleeping girl and brought her below deck. Uma and Worthless both watched him with her before brown eyes turned their attention toward the blonde. “How much do you know about me?” She asked after a moment.

        “I know your name is Shrimpy” She scowled. “And that it isn’t so…that is all I know.” She rose an eyebrow and focused her gaze on him impetuously. He squirmed where he was sitting. She had to be the most intimidating ten year old ever.

        “I know a lot about you.” Well, if that didn’t sound ominous he didn’t know what did. “Like, you _suck_ at taking directions.” He flinched. That was true. Even when he could understand the directions he was…he never finished them right. “You watch out for everybody but you. Especially the Bientôt girls.” He nodded. “You’re really strong too. Probably getting stronger every day. You work out with Gaston’s daughter.” He nodded again. “You’re really good with kids. I see you with the baby all the time, and the older girl.” Worthless nodded. He wasn’t quite sure where she was going with this. “Look” Uma leveled. “I’m a pirate without much of a crew. I like even numbers. The only thing we have to fix about you is your name.” He blinked. “No member of my crew is worthless.” A…warm feeling, a tingling almost, settled underneath his sternum as she said that. Like it meant so much more than just the words she said.

        “What…what do I have to do?” He asked. She cocked her head.

        “Live up to your new name.” He blinked again. A new name? “You know what the best part of a fish is?” His face fell and he shook his head. “Guess?”

        “Ummm…skin?” Fish didn’t have skin but he didn’t know the word for

        “You’re thinking of scales, and no. Good try. It’s gills.”

         "Acheter ... pourquoi?" The question comes out before he can think about it, also before he can think of if it’s a good idea to question the scary pretty girl. She looks at him long enough for him to realize that he asked that in the wrong language. “I mean…why is that the best?”

        “How often do you think about your lungs?” She asked instead. Of course, now that she’d mentioned it he was focusing on his breathing.

        “Exactly.” She added when she noticed what he was doing. “Humans use your lungs all the time, but you take them for granted. Gills are like that. They’re the _most_ important thing. The thing that’s always overlooked but I’ll tell you as a cephalopod, gills are really important. I walk around on land all the time and sometimes my sister’s lungs turn back into gills. She doesn’t even notice she can’t breathe until she collapses. No one notices gills, but they’re the most _important_ thing. I can’t hunt, can’t fight, can’t do anything if I can’t breathe.” Worthless’ face contorted in confusion and realization all at once.

        “What does living up to my name mean?” She chuckled.

        “If I’m frantic I can’t grow. If I can’t grow, I stay weak. If I’m weak, Mal wins. I refuse to let her win.”

        “So I” he let the statement hang until she looked at him, really _looked_ at him. “I let you breathe.” She nodded.

        “Welcome aboard Gil.” He blinked back tears he didn’t know where there. It…it was that simple, to go from Worthless to Gil. He…he was overwhelmed with emotion. But he knew one thing for a fact. He’d follow Shrimpy to the ends of the earth and then some. After all…she would always need to breathe.


End file.
